


Harley Quinn Ships Batman and Robin

by eeyore9990



Series: December Gift Fic Spree [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Comes Back, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After ten long years away, Stiles returns to Beacon Hills with a daughter and a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thraceadams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thraceadams/gifts).



> December Fic Spree, Day 15: Gift for Thraceadams!
> 
> Happy December 15th!

Stiles made it about half a mile past the Welcome To Beacon Hills sign before he pulled his car over, opened his door, and got out. Walking calmly around to the trunk, he lifted the lid, put his head inside, and had the quietest freak out of his life.

The good news: nothing came out of the heavily forested area lining both sides of the road to eat him.

The bad news: when he finally lifted his head, it was to see his daughter standing there, arms crossed over her retro Batman t shirt and curls sticking out every which way from the bun he’d tried fixing her hair in that morning. The look on Harley’s face was absolutely scathing, and if she rolled her eyes any harder, they’d fall straight out of her head and beat the car home.

"Come _on_ , Daddy. My iPad is out of battery, and I don’t wanna plug it in ‘til we get to Grandpa’s. What are you doing, anyway? What if a branch fell off that tree and hit the top of the trunk? It’d chop your head clean off!” The eager, blood thirsty look in her eyes made Stiles wince. 

That particular apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree at all.

"I was just stretching my legs, Curly Q," he said, trying to make his voice sound steady and not thin with panic.

"Yeah. Ooookay." Turning around, she heely’d back to her door, which was still hanging open, and climbed back in. Before she slammed her door shut, she yelled, "Now stop freaking out and come _on_. You can have a panic attack when we get to Grandpa’s!”

—

They weren’t at the house five minutes before there was a pounding at the front door. Wiping his palms against his thighs, Stiles went to the door, hesitating a moment before he checked the peephole. When he saw who it was, he let out a joyous yell and flung the door open, flying backward when a hundred and eighty pounds of werewolf barrelled into his chest.

A high, girlish squeal let him know Harley had seen their guest, and then another seventy pounds of pure energy was piling on. “Uncle Scotty!”

"Harley Queen, love of my life!" 

Stiles took an elbow to the face as Scott wriggled around in an attempt to wrap the both of them in his arms.

"It’s Quinn, Uncle Scott." But Harley was laughing, childish peals of delight that filled Stiles with happiness and let him know that, however much he’d stressed over this decision, moving home was the right call.

"Quinn Queen? I dunno, Harley, that just doesn’t have the same ring to it," Scott said, before rolling off Stiles, leaving him squished on the floor and trying to assess the damage. 

A hand appeared in his watery vision and Stiles took it gratefully, not too proud to accept a hand up. It wasn’t until he was on his feet that Stiles realized it wasn’t Scott’s hand he was holding.

"Derek," he breathed, still winded. He blinked twice, wiped his eyes, and looked again. "I… long time, no see. Did you—?"

"I was with Scott when he got your text," Derek muttered, dropping Stiles’ hand and stepping back. His gaze flickered to Harley for half a second before skittering away, his face set in grim lines.

"Yeah. Um. Hey, Curly Q, come here for a second." Stiles raked his hand through his hair and tried a wobbly smile, but couldn’t sustain it in the face of Derek’s disdain-filled eyebrows. When Harley finally pulled herself away from Scott, Stiles squatted down, put his arm around her and pointed her at Derek. "Baby, this is Derek. You remember—"

But Harley was already taking over, stepping forward and raking a measuring gaze over Derek, from the tips of his hair to the toes of his sturdy boots. Finally, she looked back up at him, eyes narrow and lips twisting, and shoved out her hand. “I’m Harley Quinn Stilinski. Call me Harley,” she said. Then, when Derek didn’t move fast enough, she rolled her eyes and said, “You’re supposed to shake it, not stare at it. Were you raised by wolves or something?” And then she just smirked because god, his daughter was such a little shit.

Derek flashed his eyes at her, took her hand in two fingers, and waggled it back and forth before dropping it. “She’s definitely your kid.”

"Well, yeah," Stiles said, feeling a twin of Harley’s smirk curling his own mouth. "I remember making her, but thanks for the confirmation."

Derek grunted, scowling around the entryway. Stiles took advantage of his far-too-blatant lack of attention to take in the changes ten years had wrought. There weren’t many, to be honest. Derek was still one of the most beautiful people Stiles had ever seen, and his dark purple shirt still stretched across an obscenely muscled chest. His cheeks were still covered in a thick layer of scruff, but his hair was longer than Stiles remembered him keeping it, falling in soft waves around his head and curling the tiniest bit over his collar.

Harley’s squeal broke Stiles from his perusal of Derek and he turned to see her scrambling up the stairs. 

"What’s going on?" he asked Scott, elbowing him. 

"Oh, nothing. I just told her Lydia was coming over tonight."

Wincing at the mess of clothes he knew he’d find when he went upstairs later, Stiles hollered, “Your dresses are in the hanging bag!”

Harley’s “Duh” floated back down, dripping with sarcasm.

He could only sigh and nod when Derek muttered again, “Totally your kid.”

—

"So, Uncle Scott," Harley said before closing her eyes and mouth in a squinch-faced look when Stiles began spritzing the No More Tangles in her hair.

“‘Sup, Harley Queen?”

Gulping in huge breaths, and wincing when Stiles started pulling a wide-toothed comb through her thick, wildly curling hair, Harley tattled, “Daddy had a total freak out right before we got here.”

Stiles sighed, forcing himself not to yank on the comb in retaliation for her treachery. “I did not—”

"Lie," Derek said casually before flipping a page in Stiles’ dad’s copy of Guns & Ammo.

"Dude," Scott murmured, his face falling with dismay. "I told you it’s safe now."

Concentrating on a snarl, Stiles picked at it, pushing Harley’s head back upright absently when she let it sag backward. Shrugging, Stiles said, “I know, but… it just kinda hit me. The memories and… everything.”

"Nothing’s gonna happen. We won’t _let_ anything happen. You know that, right?” Scott asked, dropping a hand to Stiles’ shoulder and squeezing softly.

Stiles snorted, separating Harley’s hair into two slightly crooked halves. “Dude, Scott, I love you and all but… You don’t think I’d come back to the,” he paused to cover Harley’s ears and mouthed _Hellmouth_ before going back to her hair, “without being able to take care of us, do you?”

Derek’s disbelieving snort got Stiles’ hackles up. And not _just_ his, it seemed. 

"Excuse you, _Bruce_. My daddy’s a total BAMF.” When she announced that, Harley put her knuckles up for Stiles to punch. 

Which he did. Because his daughter was the most awesome kid ever.

Pulling her hair through the pony tail holders, Stiles studied the crazily lopsided mess he’d made and sighed. “Sorry, kiddo. I tried.”

"Oh my god," Derek muttered, tossing the magazine back to the coffee table and reaching across, gesturing impatiently at Stiles. "Give me the damn comb."

"Swear! You made a swear! You owe me a dollar!" Harley sing-songed in delight, holding out her hand and advancing on Derek, who just blinked at her, then looked at Stiles, obviously befuddled.

When Stiles didn’t rush to his aid, Derek rolled his eyes and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Opening it, he stared at the contents before gruffly asking, “Got change for a five?”

"Nope. But I’ll throw in a box of Girl Scout cookies with it."

A sour look on his face, Derek pulled out the money and handed it over, not thinking to ask until _after_ Harley had it in her hot little hand, “You’re a girl scout?”

"Nope," she said again, popping the p. " _Sucker_.”

"Harley _Quinn_.”

Harley stiffened, her eyes flaring wide at Stiles’ firm tone. Grimacing, she handed the bill back to Derek, looking back over her shoulder pleadingly. Holding his ground, Stiles maintained his frown and shook his head. Shoulders dropping dejectedly, Harley looked up through her lashes at Derek. “Sorry. You can have your money back. But you shouldn’t swear. It’s unbecoming.” She spoke those last words like she was reciting something by rote.

Derek stared down at her solemnly for several long seconds, until Harley started to slowly pull the money back toward her, then his hand flashed out and snatched it from her grip. Shoving it in his pocket, Derek pursed his lips. “You’re right,” he finally said, a certain gravity about him. “My mom always said the same thing. We only had to pay a quarter, though.”

Harley shrugged sympathetically. “Inflation,” she muttered, pulling a face.

"Oh god, I can’t," Scott hissed, covering his face with his hands. "She’s even _more adorable_. How the hell do you tell her no?”

Stiles slanted a flat look at Scott. “Does she appear to be a child burdened by rejection?”

But when Derek spoke again, both Stiles and Scott nearly got whiplash swinging their heads back around to gape in astonishment.

"Since I don’t have a dollar, I’ll have to work off my debt. How do you feel about french braids?"

Harley’s eyes went wide with disbelief before she darted toward Stiles, holding out her hand imperiously. Without needing to be told, Stiles handed over the comb and detangler. He and Scott watched avidly, not daring to make a sound, as Derek began easing the ties from Harley’s hair. Shoving them in his mouth, Derek grunted as Harley began chattering away about her favorite comic book series. His big hands worked deftly, taming her hair with the detangler, splitting it perfectly down the middle in a ruler-straight part, and plaiting it with ease. Harley didn’t wince once, or grab her scalp, much to Stiles’ astonishment.

In less time than it usually took Stiles to comb her hair in the mornings, his little girl was standing there with perfect french braids that ran diagonally down the sides of her head before joining into one braid at the back of her neck. When he was finished, Derek slipped the extra hair tie around Harley’s bony little wrist. “Just in case.”

Harley ran her fingers carefully over her braids before a smile bloomed, big and bright on her face. Spinning around, she threw her arms around Derek’s neck and smacked a kiss on his cheek. She stayed there a few seconds, and if it weren’t for Scott choking on a laugh, Stiles would never know anything had happened.

With a sinking feeling of dread, Stiles asked, “What’d she say?”

"She asked if Derek would come back and swear again tomorrow."

—

After Lydia swept in, snatched up his daughter, and swept out again, declaring it time for a “girl’s night out,” Scott got called out for emergency surgery on a dog that had been hit by a car, and just like that Stiles was alone with Derek for the first time in over a decade. 

"So, you’re looking good," Stiles finally said, just to break the unbearably awkward silence that had fallen

But just as he started speaking, Derek asked, “Why did she call me Bruce?”

"Oh." Stiles scratched a hand over the back of his neck. "Well, I told her about you. I mean, she knows everyone else, but you didn’t…" Clearing his throat, Stiles steamrollered right along. " _Anyway_ , she sort of thinks you’re some unholy amalgamation of Bruce Wayne and Bruce Banner.” 

"I’m surprised you let her get away with that," Derek finally said, fingers plucking agitatedly at the top of his boot.

"I know, right? Marvel and DC. It’s like I’ve failed at parenthood." Stiles grinned, thinking about how incredible Harley was.

"No, I mean… I’m surprised you let her think I’m a hero." Without another word, Derek pushed himself to his feet and walked toward the door.

Still processing Derek’s words, Stiles was slow on the uptake, but still managed to stumble to his feet and run after Derek. “Hey, wait! You came with Scott. Let me drive you home.”

Derek paused, hand gripping the doorknob. “You don’t have to. I can run from here.”

"Uh, no, dude. Seriously. You did some magic mojo to Harley’s hair; I owe you this much. Hell, I’m never taking those braids out. She’ll be fifty with cute little french braids. How the hell did you know how to do that, by the way?" Stiles grabbed his wallet and keys, nudging Derek when he was ready.

"My sisters. They used to make me fix their hair. It’s… a skill you never lose, I guess." 

Another silence descended then, one Stiles was loathe to break. For all that he’d been gone forever, Stiles would bet money that Derek still didn’t talk about his family very often. 

They were nearly out of the neighborhood Stiles had grown up in before he heard Derek say, “I’m glad you came back.”

Stiles smiled, shifting his arm to bump lightly against Derek’s. “Me too.”

"I didn’t… think you were going to. That’s why…" When Stiles looked over, Derek was staring out the passenger-side window.

"That’s why you never came to visit us. Even though we were just down in LA." Stiles’ grip tightened on the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearms contracting until he forced them to relax. Forced _himself_ to relax.

"Yeah."

Sometime in the last ten years, Stiles had grown up. Stopped avoiding confrontation. It was the new strength that made him open his mouth and ask, “Was that the only reason?”

The tension in the small, dark interior of the car ratcheted up to an eleven on a scale of one to ten. Derek huffed out a small breath and Stiles could see his lips parting in his peripheral vision. But the silence held sway. 

"I loved her, you know." When Derek still didn’t say anything, Stiles continued, "Ivy was beautiful and smart and _funny._ God, she could make me laugh. Loving her was so easy. It was one of the easiest things I’ve ever felt.” When he closed his eyes, Stiles could still see her, bright and gorgeous and the center of his world.

"Why are you telling me this?" Derek sounded pained, his voice a little hoarse.

"Only one other thing was ever that effortless." Stiles pulled into the parking lot, staring up at the darkened windows of Derek’s loft. "That’s how I knew I could trust it." Getting out of the car, he rounded it and went to open Derek’s door. When Derek stood up, Stiles stayed where he was, half trapping Derek against his car.

"I’m a 28-year-old widower. I have a nine year old daughter who is the brightest spot in my universe."

Derek raised a hand, let it hover between them before dropping it. “Stiles, why—”

"Because I ran away from this town when I was eighteen and I kept running. But it wasn’t the town I was running from! I’m tired of running away from my feelings for you. I watched you braid Harley’s hair tonight and it was like I was seventeen all over again."

"No, but. Why are we _here_?” Derek gestured at the building behind them. “I haven’t lived here in years.”

Stumbling back a step, Stiles looked around, his stomach sinking as embarrassment began to rise in its place. How could he have thought… 

Before he could panic, though, he heard Derek say, through the ringing in his ears, “My therapist said it was unhealthy to hold onto a place with such bad memories. She also said I should move on in my personal life, but that one…” Derek stepped closer, staring through the dim light at Stiles. “I wasn’t quite able to let you go. You moved away and fell in love and got married and had a _kid_ …” He ran his thumb over Stiles’ lip, but he looked distracted. Somewhere else. “I wanted to hate her. I tried to, even. But how could I? She’s so much like you.”

"She’ll wrap you around her little finger and make you thank her for the privilege."

Derek laughed softly, fingers skating over Stiles’ skin, cataloguing the differences a decade had made. “And you let her go with Lydia? You’re a glutton for punishment.”

Stiles hummed contentedly, leaning his face into Derek’s palm, something niggling at the back of his mind. Then, eyes flying open, he whispered, “Oh, shit. Lydia!” Yanking his phone out of his pocket, he punched the button and keyed in his code, breathing out a sigh of relief to see they still had at least an hour before Lydia brought Harley home. Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he winced, recognizing the destruction of a really good mood. “So, um. Where were we?”

Derek’s eyes were shuttered, allowing him to hide behind them. “You were going to take me home and then go back to your daughter and admire her toenails or whatever.”

Stiles nodded, waving his hand around dismissively. “Yes. I mean, those are things that’ll happen, but neither of us have eaten yet, and I’ve still got time. Derek Hale, will you go to dinner with me?”

Derek closed his eyes, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. “I’m thirty five, I have a really shitty dating history, and my issues could keep a herd of therapists busy until retirement. On top of all that, I’m a werewolf. I’m a bad bet.”

"That’s okay. I only gamble if I know I’m going to win." Tilting his head, he brushed his lips lightly over Derek’s. "Let’s not wait another ten years. Come to dinner with me."

"Yes."

—

When Stiles texted Lydia his plans, he got two messages back. The first said only, **It’s about damn time.**

The second was a picture of Harley, wearing a huge grin and giving him two thumbs up.


	2. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Single Dad Stiles is on my mind today, which means I was revisited by the ghost of fics past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I often have thoughts and feelings about Ivy Stilinski. I'll be laying in bed or taking a shower or whatever and I'll think about her. Of all the characters I never wrote, she's the one that speaks the loudest to me. So today I went ahead and wrote a little tiny bit more of her story as told by the man who loved her.

Stiles leaned back into the curve of Derek's body, feeling the low, muted sparks of pleasure spreading through his arm from where Derek was idly rubbing his thumb back and forth across Stiles' pulse point. They were supposed to be watching television, but in reality they were both staring across the room at where Lydia and Harley were looking through a fashion magazine. 

That… was going to cost Stiles some money. 

"Why did you marry her?" Derek asked, the question low and uncertain, like it wasn't really the question he wanted to ask but he didn't know how to put the words together to get his point across. 

It was okay though, because Stiles understood what he _was_ asking. Well. Maybe. "Do you mean why didn't I wait twelve years for you to get to a place where you would be comfortable enough to actually date me or why did I marry Ivy knowing she was going to die?" 

Derek shifted behind him, his fingers spasming against Stiles' wrist. "That… the last part." 

Stiles nodded, relaxing further against Derek so he'd stop worrying he might have somehow offended Stiles. "The simple answer is because I loved her. I knew from the minute I met her that she was someone I needed in my life and," he stopped for a few beats to let the fist of pain around his heart unclench its grip. "And it didn't matter to me that she was 'past her expiration date.' That's what she always said." He wiped his face on Derek's shirt, not because he was crying but just because he needed to feel it against his skin. "The doctors told her she was going to die within the year when she was in her last year of high school. That she probably wouldn't graduate. I met her freshman year. She made it to Harley's fourth birthday." 

They sat quietly for a long, stretched-out minute, Derek's thumb resuming its strokes. 

"I asked her to marry me five times," Stiles said. "She kept telling me no, but she was trying to protect _me_ from having to lose another person. That's… She didn't want me to grieve for her. It was like she didn't think I would if we weren't married." He blinked, flashes of their life together swimming through his mind, colored in a bittersweet filter. "I talked to my dad before I asked her the first time. Asked him if he'd do it all over again. If he'd known." The tears did come then, his eyes burning and throat aching for all the beautiful, brave women they'd buried. "He told me he wouldn't hesitate. Knowing everything, knowing the pain of losing her, he'd do it all over again because the other option was not having had her for his wife. And there's no universe where that would have been acceptable. And that's… yeah. I don't want to know the person I would have been today if I hadn't had Ivy in my life." 

Derek pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "I wish I had met her." 

"You can. She left a video for you," Stiles said, knowing the time was finally right. 

Stiffening against him, Derek's confusion rang in his voice when he said, "What?" 

"Ivy made two videos. Well, I mean, two specifically for the people after her. She made a few hundred for Harley and me, but yeah. One of the videos was for any random stranger who might come into my life after her. One for you, specifically. I watched the first one and it was all about my annoying habits and cute quirks and how to get me to admit I'm wrong. Which, FYI, never happens. I am _always_ right." Stiles grinned, blinking his wet lashes as the last of the pain settled back into its corner of his heart. "I didn't watch yours, though," he admitted. "I guess because she put your name on it, it just seemed..." He shrugged. "It seemed wrong. Like I'd be intruding on a conversation I hadn't been invited into." 

"Why would she…?" 

"Because I was in love with you too." Stiles turned so he could look Derek in the face, so Derek could see the seriousness in his expression. "She knew about you, she knew how I felt about you. One of the last things she ever told me was to wait for you. Because she knew that I would love you for the rest of my life. I'm stubborn like that." 

Derek's face was filled with an emotion Stiles didn't understand. "Why didn't she hate me?" he finally asked, his voice rough. "If you… she should have. She should have _hated_ me." 

Cupping Derek's face, Stiles clenched his jaw against all the words that wanted to spill out, waiting instead for the right ones. "Derek. The only person who ever hated you was you. Ivy loved you because I love you. Because you are so easy to love. It's that simple." 

"Can I wait?" Derek asked after taking several long, shuddering breaths. "I want to watch the video. I want to… meet her. But I--" There was confusion and pain and apology in the look he sent Stiles. 

"Of course," Stiles said, twisting further to place a soft kiss to Derek's jaw and then wrap him in an awkward, one-armed hug. Holding on tight, he said, "Whenever you're ready." 


	3. The Video

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy leaves a message for Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost a year since I wrote the original one shot of this fic (the first chapter). I've played this video in my head a hundred times. I'm not sure if this is exactly right, but it hits the key points.
> 
> Writing Ivy was hard, y'all. Tears were shed in the writing of this video.

Derek waits for the sound of Stiles' car to fade from his hearing before he reaches a shaking hand forward to press play. The image comes to life immediately, and Derek holds his breath, watching as the girl on the screen studies him.

The camera. She's looking into the camera, but it _feels_ like she's looking directly at him. Directly _into_ him.

"Hi, Derek. I'm Ivy." She pauses then, laughs a little and looks down. "This is stupid. Sorry. You're probably never going to watch this." 

There's a stutter in the film then, like she paused the recording, but nothing is different about Ivy or the room behind her after the stutter, so Derek pays it no mind. 

"Stiles asked me to marry him again today. This time I said yes. It's selfish, I know, but I…" Ivy bites her lip, looking off to the side. "I love him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, which isn't saying much. I mean, as far as the doctors are concerned, I should have died a long time ago."

She stares back at the camera and looks a little fierce when she says, "From what Stiles tells me, you'd know something about that." Then her eyes go wide and she winces and says, "Oh god, that is so not what I… _crap_. I'm sorry. I just. God, that was horrible. I-- He talks about you. He loves you."

Her chin dips as she fiddles with something below the sightline of the camera. "He loves me too. I don't know if that makes me the other woman, or you the other man. Does it matter?" She sighs and pulls a hand down her face, rolling her eyes. "I sound jealous and petty, don't I? I'm not. Well, I'm a little petty, but that's because I've seen your picture." She laughs then and leans forward. "You're prettier than me, I'm allowed to be petty."

"Yeah, anyway, I thought it was a good idea to leave this. Because one day I'll be dead and from what I know of you, you won't believe Stiles when he tells you he never stopped loving you. You'll think he did; that he stopped for me. But he didn't stop, he just… adjusted. He's good at that. He's good at a lot of things, but he's really good at adjusting." 

She goes quiet again, contemplative, then shrugs, her gaze steady and bright as she looks into the camera. Honest. "When he looks at me, it's like I'm his entire world. He loves me so much, and I _feel_ it so strongly. I've never doubted his love for me. But I really hope you understand that it's not a competition because if I'm his world, you're the sun in his sky. The source of his light and warmth and… He grew to be the man he is today because of you."

Her mouth quirks up at the corner, but her eyes are liquid and kind when she whispers, "Thank you for sharing him with me."

The film jumps again and this time the room is almost dark and Ivy's hair is down, a cloud of tight brown curls framing her face. She looks tired now, skin stretched too thin. "I'm pregnant," she says shakily after a long pause, and her face crumples, her hands coming up to hide it before she reaches out and--

"I thought about starting over," Ivy's voice is wry, light. She looks better than she had a second ago. Her hair is piled on top of her head and she's leaning back, the sun shining all around her, almost making the picture too bright. She's obviously in a different room than she'd been in the other times. "Or just deleting it all entirely. But it's taken me three weeks to get this far and at this point you're cheaper than therapy. I want you to know that I'm not unhappy about the baby. I never was. I'm just," she swallows, and looks up at the ceiling and he can see the way light is reflecting off her eyes, bending a little around the tears gathering along her lower lashes. "I'm scared," she says in a whisper. "They always told me I wouldn't be able to have children, so when I was clean and Stiles was clean, it seemed stupid to wear condoms. And I can't use the pill for obvious reasons and… Oh my god, we're _that_ idiot couple." She laughs then, and it's a bright, beautiful sound.

Derek wants to hate her for being able to sound like that. For being able to find the beauty in a world crumbling around her.

He can't.

"He doesn't know yet," she says, sobering so suddenly it takes Derek by surprise, makes him flinch. "I don't know why I'm telling you." She turns her head away from the camera, her palm coming up and pressing to her mouth as she closes her eyes, a look that's almost pain tightening her features. "I'm scared to tell him," she says, words muffled by her hand. "I'm scared to watch him get excited only to lose us both."

"But more than that..." She smiles; it's at once beautiful and broken. "I'm afraid of just losing the baby. My body wasn't meant to last this long. What if my dying body kills my baby? What if I never get to hold it? What if I never hear it laugh or cry or tell me it loves me?"

When the film skips again, Derek hits pause and stands up, going into Harley's room to look around, to touch her things and rearrange them a little. To reassure himself that she's here. She's _here._ She made it.

When he's a little more settled, he goes back. Sits and stares at the screen for a long time, wondering about the girl who made these videos. When Stiles had explained to him about this particular one, Derek had thought it would be one moment. One little speech. Maybe a thumbing of the nose at him for being the idiot who let Stiles get away.

Instead, he's getting this. A feeling swamps him and he touches his chest, realizes it's _gratitude_.

The next words on the video are shouted in a happy scream that knocks Derek back a bit. "It's a girl!" The joy is so fierce in Ivy's face, in her excited babble, in her shaking hands as she holds up the ultrasound and then stands to show off the bulge of her belly. "She's healthy. She's healthy and growing and she has a _heartbeat_ and it sounds like a little grasshopper or something, I don't know. But…" She stands and spins around and her laughter comes through so clear and bright and heartbreakingly _happy_ just before she bumps into the table with the camera and the video skips again.

Ivy's mouth is open and she's sitting much closer to the camera than ever before. Her cheeks are full and healthy looking, but her eyes are a little glazed. "Oh my god, you're a werewolf." And then she just stares into the camera until there's another jump.

"Hi, Derek," Ivy says in a voice soft and light, and with her is a tiny baby. She lifts the baby's hand -- it's Harley, Derek knows it is, but somehow it doesn't seem fair to acknowledge that yet -- and makes it wave to the camera, even though the baby is sleeping. "This is Harley Quinn Stilinski. She's beautiful, isn't she?" Ivy stares down at Harley, trailing a fingertip over her round little cheek. "She's so beautiful." Looking back up at the camera, Ivy's eyes go wet with tears again and she says, "Thank you."

And Derek doesn't know what she's thanking him for, but he reaches forward and touches the image of her on the screen and whispers, "You're welcome."

The next image of Ivy is different in a way Derek can't put his finger on. He wishes there were timestamps on the video, but there aren't, just these little skips and jumps. If he had to say though, he'd say she was older. Her next words confirm it.

"Hey there, handsome. It's been a while. Hard to find alone time to blabber at a camera when you have a kid." She tilts her head, and again Derek has that sense that she's looking at him. The him sitting there watching the video. That she's looking into the future and having a conversation with a man who can't talk back. "This'll be the last time I can do this, so I have to say all the things I haven't said."

She touches her chest over her heart, and pulls a face. "I'm dying. I can feel it inside me now. Scott offered me the bite a few years ago, but…" She sighs, arching in her seat like she's uncomfortable. 

She looks tired, but not like she's dying. Not like that.

"I don't want to be Stiles' Paige. I know Scott said the chances of the bite killing me are low, but I can't take that chance. I can't take the chance that I'll lose another day, another _minute_ with Stiles and Harley. Does that make me a coward?" She glances around, avoiding the camera like she's waiting for his judgment.

She couldn't have known he'd never judge her for that. He hopes she did anyway.

"Lydia gets this look sometimes. Like she's hearing something that makes her want to scream. Seeing her like that makes _me_ want to scream."

She sighs, her eyes drifting closed. "I'm so tired."

There's another blip then, surprising Derek because he was sure that would have been the last message. 

The screen is shaky now, like the camera's not on a table but being held up. "Hi again. Surprise! Still alive. Well, for a minute."

Ivy looks up, off camera, and says, "Thanks, Scott, I've got it."

Derek pauses the video and stares at it. _Scott._ Scott was there for this. 

On the screen, Ivy is caught in still frame, laying on what looks to be a hospital bed. What _is_ a hospital bed if the ugly hospital gown she's wearing is any indication. She looks… too thin, too drawn, too everything. But her eyes still shine with that light he couldn't help noticing when he first hit play. Even this close to death, she is _fiercely_ alive.

His fingers hover over the pause button, wanting to push it and yet… not. He does it anyway, because if she had the strength to speak the words, he'll muster the courage to hear them.

"I sent Stiles to get me some Skittles, so I have to be quick. I wanted to say goodbye. You never came to visit, but I feel like we know each other anyway. You… you made Stiles the boy I fell in love with. And I like to think, I _hope_ , that I made him the man he is today. The man you'll get to fall in love with all over again. Our gifts to each other."

There's a shuffling sound off screen, probably Scott alerting Ivy to Stiles' return.

"Take care of him. Love him. Let him love you."

She reaches out like she's going to touch the camera lens then draws back her hand. "And thank you for allowing me the opportunity to have him in my life. I get to leave a part of me behind now and--"

The screen goes black. 

Derek sits there, staring at the play button. The whole video was less than ten minutes long, but he feels forever changed.

He wonders, the room darkening around him as the sun sets outside the window, if he has earned the trust she placed in him. He hopes so. 

If not, he vows to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the shift to present tense. It just refused to be written any other way. Which is odd, because the video is over five years old at the time of the story, lol.


End file.
